


24/7

by lil_utterance (persephone_flees)



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone_flees/pseuds/lil_utterance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan and Talia's relationship, in drabble form, from beginning to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	24/7

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for a challenge provided by LJ's femslash100. The challenge is called 'Around the Clock' and states that the author must write a drabble for each hour of the day for the chosen pairing.

**00:00 /beginning**

"What is it like when telepaths make love?" Susan asks softly, and Talia cannot quite contain her surprise.

"Why do you ask?"

Her voice is sharper than she means it to be, and not for the first time she wishes that she had as much control over her speaking voice as she does over her mental forms of communication. Though it's not a fair comparison – training her to speak had been the throwaway task.

But Susan surprises her again, offering a smile, reaching out a hand to trace her mouth. "Don't worry, I'm not afraid you'll read my mind or anything. I'm just curious. I'd like...I'd like to know."

Talia feels she shouldn't let this chance to tell Susan something beautiful – something intimate - about the talent slip away. She feels that if she could find the right description, the woman entwined with her might truly understand.

She wonders if she even has the words. To think. To speak.

But more than that she wonders if she can control her voice.

This question could have been their beginning.

**01:00 / prehistoric**

It's her companion, this ancient fear. It speaks in the much-loved voice so often, she thinks it must be the last remnant of her mother's consciousness still-living inside her head.

Innate as a mother's love, this fear.

But Susan believes in discipline, and throughout her career in Earthforce she has managed to curb most of the more insane impulses that result from the adrenaline rush she gets every time she interacts with members of the Corps. Not all – though she really _had_ known about the pool below that window.

Still, now she has to deal with another one of them. A predator has boarded her station, and she cannot remove it.

So she absences herself from the conversation. Leaves Garibaldi so quickly that he would make fun of her if he wasn't so distracted at the sight of Ms. Winters walking in their direction.

Susan knows its fight or flight, and she's choosing the correct option. But somehow she still can't resist a single challenging glance over her shoulder as she walks away.

**07:00 / awakened **

Generally Talia hates eating meals alone.

Not that she really has much of a choice here. She's a teep with a shiny badge that reflects the fear of others. After all, it's not enough that she simply feels their paranoia. No, she must also feel the physical weight of their emotions on her chest.

The only exception to her dispreference for isolated dining is breakfast.

She finds breakfasting alone fine for three reasons. The first two seem straightforward: she likes time to enjoy her coffee (or at least the reasonable facsimile that's served) and to peruse her clients' files one final time before the day's meetings.

But the third and final reason is rapidly giving her more pleasure than the first two combined. And in fact-

She turns her chair a bit to get a better view.

Yes. There. Right on time.

Watching Susan Ivanova in the morning is quite the treat. It isn't that she emerges from her quarters all neat and trim and well rested. Quite the opposite. Susan does not like mornings – and does absolutely nothing to hide it. That alone is enough to make seeing her worthwhile; Susan voluntarily reveals _something_.

Plus, there exists undeniable entertainment value.

Anger, bitchiness, incredulity...all of the commander's reactions seem amplified the earlier the hour.

Talia thinks that possibly the only thing better than watching Susan right after she wakes up would be to be the one actually doing the waking.

That level of irritation could be channeled so productively.

**12:00 / lunchtime**

"Ivonova, you have a minute?"

"Not unless it's dire, Garibaldi. I'm busy."

She can feel him staring at her bent head, but refuses to look at him. Instead, she takes another sip of her coffee.

"Well, see, that's the problem. You've apparently been too busy to answer your link."

"I'm off duty. So if there's no emergency..."

"Alright, alright. I just wanted to say that...well, you know Ms. Winters has had a very difficult day. She's sitting in the bar alone and-" Michael shrugs.

_Their fingers brush as she hands Talia the glass of water. Susan's fingers twitch slightly despite the sympathy she feels – though she doesn't examine the motivation for the tremors too carefully. Most of her energy is focused on suppressing her disgust at having to once again watch the violation of another's mind. _

Susan doesn't even spare him a glance as she opens another personnel file. "If Ms. Winters won't talk to you, I'm hardly the appropriate confidant. I'm sorry, Garibaldi. I can't help you."

She can't tell if he's disappointed or relieved as he exits her quarters. She's not sure which she feels either.

**08:00 / heyday**

"So, did you enjoy yourself?"

Drink firmly in hand, Susan turned away from the bar at the sound of that amused voice.

"Ms. Winters, I have no idea as to what you are referring."

"Why, to your diplomatic coup, Commander. I should congratulate you."

"How could you possibly...?" Susan knew she was not being scanned, but couldn't suppress a quick jolt of alarm.

"I heard Dr. Franklin and the captain talking. You and the captain must have had one very interesting conversation."

"Not really." And definitely not compared to the one they would have later. The one that occurred before she reset his shower preferences. He'd be in hot water. Literally.

Really, outside the fine art of diplomacy, subtlety was overrated.

She must not have been looking dangerous enough, because her companion offered her another slow smile.

"From what little I heard, dancing is a more integral part of human mating rituals than I had previously realized."

Susan couldn't quite suppress an embarrassed laugh. "Honestly? I'm still rather surprised he bought it." She finished off her drink in one gulp and shook her head. "And I really hadn't thought I'd ever enjoy dancing that much again."

"See, Commander, this is why you need to keep an open mind."

The silence stretched between the two of them.

Susan stared into her glass a moment before placing it gently on the bar. "Never going to happen," she said, standing. "Goodnight, Ms. Winters."

**16:00 / evolution**

Susan wondered if it all boiled down to genetics.

Her mother's condemnation resulted from a single gene. And despite her own best efforts, her life seemingly revolved around that one inherited trait. So much to hide for so little to see.

Evolution dictated that she was too good for Earthforce. The 'enhanced abilities' she possessed disqualified her for service by over-qualifying her. Or at least that's what they would tell her if they ever found out.

But frankly, evolution also determined that she wasn't good enough to truly interact with most other telepaths. Not that she wasn't relieved that she was a poor candidate for a genetic pairing.

But as someone who by modern standards was overqualified to fit in with mundanes and underqualifed to belong to the new telepathic order, hiding her talent would always seem the best option for survival – regardless of the presence of the Corps.

Whatever step she represented in human evolution, it obviously would end in the extinction of her person. Too many negatives, not enough positives.

In every way, the cold hard facts of evolution meant she should not interact, confide in, or even think about Talia Winters.

And electing to sleep with her would be to select herself right out of the population.

**09:00 / planned**

At some point they traded coffee for mixed drinks.

Ivanova herself suggested it one day as the two of them were finishing their hot beverages, and the abandon implied by such an offer made Talia wonder if there was more than coffee in the other woman's mug.

Wisely, she did nothing more that morning than murmur assent.

But now she's seated scant inches from Susan, working on her second drink – and wondering. So she lets her hand drift, allows her glove to brush the commander's arm.

Her efforts earn her cool appraisal and a single word. "No."

It's not until Talia's hand is once more around her glass that Susan speaks again.

"When you take those off," she nods at the gloves. "I'll-"

"What? Be even more afraid of my touch?"

"No. Just the opposite."

"Commander. The Corps requires that-"

"Exactly." Susan takes a sip of her drink then turns to fully face Talia. "When you take those off, when you are no longer constrained, we can...re-evaluate...our relationship."

For the first time, Talia knows she's not the only one that's getting tired of being unable to touch.

**11:00 / punctual**

It feels like a first date.

She hadn't really even thought about her actions until she reached Susan's door, but now she's just standing outside feeling foolish, wine in one hand, glasses in the other, and no idea what to do when the door opens.

And nothing comes to mind once she steps inside and actually sees Susan. _Relaxed, tousled, ready for bed_ – and suddenly Talia is too-aware of what the other woman is wearing and the liberty she's taken in coming here.

She covers her hesitation with a bold smile. "I bring gifts."

"Ms. Winters, it's late."

Though Susan's made it perfectly clear her mind is off-limits, she's become increasingly generous with facial expressions. Talia now reads her face like a book, and what's written there let's her know that the commander is resigned to taking part in their usual battle.

She doesn't know that Talia is willing to meet the terms of her surrender. Doesn't know that Talia is tired of the pursuit, tired of watching predator turned prey.

"I know…I just wanted to say that you were right, and I was wrong."

Susan says nothing.

"About the Corps," Talia clarifies. For a moment she feels terrified – has she waited too long? Then Susan looks up, and the tension between them re-emerges, a connection to fuel her courage.

"I…um…can't go into details." Talia methodically pulls off her gloves. "But in light of recent events…" She finally manages to meet Susan's eyes. "I think we need to re-evaluate our relationship."

**10:00 / wristwatch**

Talia removes the link from Susan's hand very, very gently. The commander - brave though she may be - at this moment looks ready to retreat back to her corner of the couch and that's not exactly the type of surrender Talia wants right now.

But when the link joins the Psi-Corps badge sitting on the table, both women are distracted.

"Earthforce and the Corps in bed together." Susan's voice is flat.

"In name only." Talia knows the protest is true, even as she herself finds the sight of the symbols together somewhat perverse. "I understand why you wanted me to take the badge off. Right now, this is just about us."

"Is it? Does my being a member of Earthforce offend you?"

Talia has never really thought about it. She supposes it should, considering it's the government that's responsible for the creation of the Corps, and thus indirectly responsible for orphaning her not once, but twice. But unlike most of her contemporaries, it's the Corps Susan really fears – not telepaths.

"No. It doesn't offend me." Talia leans forward to lay a hand against the other woman's cheek. "I just didn't want to be disturbed when I-"

But apparently Susan has decided the conversation is over, so Talia revises her method of communication as her lips and tongue lose the shape of words and gain the knowledge of Susan Ivanova's mouth.

**18:00 / afterlife**

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Talia turned and pressed a reassuring kiss to Ivanova's shoulder. "Mathew has friends in high places. I knew Earthforce wouldn't be able to hold him. I'm just glad that it's unlikely he'll reappear here."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind seeing him try. Garibaldi's reserved him his own private airlock."

Susan's grin should have been unsettling, but Talia found it's edges oddly reassuring. She decided to return the favor, and a coin went flying across the room to embed itself in the wall.

"Not exactly helpless myself," she reminded her lover.

Susan's considering look expressed the same wary approval she had shown when Talia first showed her the trick several weeks previously.

Without even waiting for the commander to raise an eyebrow toward the damaged wall, Talia used her recently acquired talent to retrieve the coin.

Susan rested her head on Talia's shoulder. "Do you miss him?" she asked, touching the coin.

"Who, Jason? Sometimes." Talia sighed. "But I'm glad for him. He's finally reached a stage where what binds us no longer affects him. No worries about divisions within his species. He's utterly unique." She paused for a few moments. "Some days I wish I could just step outside of it all."

Ivanova studied the new hole in her wall and forced herself not to ask if and when such a day might be expected.

**15:00 / unpredictable**

Talia gives Susan's silky purple robe an appreciative once-over. She knows that another might be surprised at the delicateness of the garment. She, however, is not.

She is unsurprised that Susan seems as aggressive and uncompromising in her femininity as she is in everything else she commits herself to. The entirety of the effect before her is probably not due to conscious choice – the commander's curves, once freed from the confines of her uniform, are difficult to deny – but most of it is just Susan being Susan. Even her body admits no half-measures.

Talia finds this facet of Susan's personality endlessly intriguing. For the only uncertainty regarding her determined nature is where, how, and to what – or who – she'll commit herself to.

Not that there aren't the knowns. Her colleagues. Her work.

But the unknowns – that's where Talia's hope lies.

She wants to see what it's like when Susan Ivanova falls in love.

**04:00 / insomnia**

_How far is too far?_

Susan had not asked this question of herself in years.  
At least, not really. Not with regards to relationships.

She stopped asking the question about physical interactions with lovers long ago.  
She had gone as far as she considered possible. And that was pretty far.

She stopped asking it about emotional interactions not that much later.  
She had gone as far as she ever wanted to. And that, as she had recently learned, was not that far at all.

So why did she suddenly feel the need to push her own boundaries? Why did she find herself wondering about the hue, heft, and consistency of Ms. Winter's thoughts?

Only one person had ever entered her mind. Letting another person in would literally be going as far as she could go.

And yet, somehow, the distance between the thought and its realization was becoming increasingly negotiable.

**06:00 / dawn**

Waking up with Susan is everything Talia hoped it would be.

And how it occurs is hers to determine.

If she wants her in a good mood she brews the coffee first. A steaming cup of coffee under her nose, and Susan wakes manageably enough – not smiling, not even close, but not growling either. By the time the early hour registers, she's had enough caffeine to be able to ignore it.

Then they can sit and drink together, talking for a few minutes before the day begins. It's one of the few times during her waking hours that Talia doesn't have to run rhymes through her head—her mind is focused enough on the one sitting across from her that she can block out most of the static.

But drinking coffee made from the beans that Susan grows is only one of their illicit morning pleasures.

If Talia wants to wake her up sans beverage, she has to get creative. Sometimes she slips beneath the sheets, going down on Ivanova so gently that she's not even fully awake until she cries out in release. Afterwards Talia stretches out between Susan's legs and rests her chin on the firm stomach beneath her. She loves seeing the commander comfortable and languid, eyes heavy with sleep, soft with pleasure, her hair splayed across the pillows. These are the quiet mornings.

Other times Talia teases her awake with kisses and suggestions until, sighing with frustration, Susan rolls over and straddles her hips. By the time Talia lies exhausted, Susan has dispensed with most of her morning aggression. Talia suspects the commander's colleagues would thank her for these mornings – their cheerful results – if they ever discover their cause.

Waking up with Susan is everything Talia hoped it would be.

And it's never, ever boring.

**14:00 / season**

"Ms. Winters."

"Commander."

"I thought I told you to take the towel off."

"You did." Talia found it difficult to remain dignified while dripping water all over Ivanova's floor. "After you remove your uniform, I might consider the request."

"Since you always call me by title, I thought you'd prefer if I left it on. I, however, would much prefer if this," Susan grabbed the towel and pulled, "was out of my way."

"Why?" Talia tilted her shoulders back; presented her nakedness as a challenge. "What will you do?"

"This," Susan said simply, pressing her into the wall and pinning her bare hands above her head.

The feel of the commander's uniformed front molding to her bare back made Talia moan. She arched back to maximize the contact…only to find that her goal eluded her.

"Don't-" Ivanova kept their bodies slightly apart and bent her head to lick moisture off Talia's shoulder blades, "-move." Keeping one hand in place to trap her lover's, Susan allowed her free hand to slide downwards.

Talia held herself perfectly still.

"Excellent," Ivanova murmured. She slowly pressed her hand between Talia's legs and curved her fingers inwards. Several light strokes later, anticipation had turned exquisite.

"You are…" Talia bit her lip and tried to keep her legs from shaking, "so…"

"What? Annoying?" Ivanova increased the pressure of her fingers enough to pleasure, but not nearly enough to please.

"No," Talia's breath hitched, "that might imply I don't want to be doing this."

"Afraid of giving me ammunition?"

Talia stared straight at the wall and didn't move a muscle. "I'm not afraid of giving you anything." She felt Susan stiffen against her back.

"Now," Ivanova said hoarsely, and Talia shifted against her, lining up fingers, turning her head for a kiss, leaving both of them shuddering.

**13:00 / instantaneous**

"Susan, I hate to press you," Sheridan said. "But we need to know now. Hell, we needed to know _yesterday_."

"I don't know what to tell you, John."

"You said we could trust Ms. Winters. Coming from you, knowing how you feel about members of the Corps—that recommendation means a lot."

"I do trust her. You know me, I wouldn't have lied about-"

"I know the two of you are friends now. But I don't just need to know whether you trust her as a person, I need to know if you trust her as a member of the Corps. Can she, will she, give us her loyalty if it turns out they're the ones we have to go up against?"

"Its always the Corps issue," Susan muttered. And wasn't it? She'd shared this woman's bed for a month, trusting her with everything up to and including her love. She'd held back only in one respect—but she knew the value of what she denied. Worse, while Talia accepted the limitation, she had no idea that Susan deprived herself as well.

Fear of the Corps made another relationship a lie. When would she stop letting it dictate her life?

Right now, she decided, was as good a time as any.

"I'd trust with Ms. Winters with my life." She held Sheridan's gaze. "And if you need more reassurance than that, I'd trust her with my mind as well."

"Thank you, Ivanova," he said softly. "That's all the reassurance I need."

**02:00 / anniversary**

It's two years since the day they met.

Susan realized the date before Talia expressed her disbelief during breakfast. Though the exact source of her surprise remains unclear: is it due to the fact that it took them this long to be able to publicly – and civilly – sit through a meal together…or because such an event ever occurred at all?

Though perhaps it hasn't; at least, not quite yet. For they are engaged in their favorite activity: arguing. And Susan knows she can win.

"I'll have you know," she says, "I've been nothing but compassionate and understanding. I mean, all you had to do is admit that you were wrong and I was right and everything would have been fine."

Which is, of course, exactly what happened. Not that the reminder is necessary or remotely appreciated. The look on Talia's face-

Susan wonders what will happen if she bursts into laughter in the middle of the Zocalo while sitting with a telepath. Probably some type of arrest will be made.

Best to avoid that.

She manages to limit herself to a small smile.

"You are the most stubborn-" Talia begins.

But Ivanova's link saves the day, its activation ensuring that personal relationships remain on the Q.T. The meal is cut short, but they've already had the low-risk thrill of experiencing the contrast between public and private breakfasting.

Susan knows the real risk is their decision to meet in her own quarters tonight. They've discovered the hard way just how many Earthforce personnel are housed in that sector. But repairs mean they cannot meet at Talia's…and Susan really wants to be with her tonight.

If for no other reason than to finish their argument.

**20:00/ twilight **

Only after they've made love for the second time in a row does Susan seem to let go of whatever has bothered her all evening. She's like that sometimes – focusing on another's needs to clear her mind of her own problems.

Talia wants her focus. She's amazed at how Susan anticipates her auditory cues; the way she appears to expect every gasp, the length of each moan. Sometimes Talia thinks her lover possesses an unfair advantage. Psi-training might strengthen some senses, but others are left to atrophy. The unspoken expectation is that a telepath will read what they need to know. Before Susan, Talia has never had to intuit a partner's desires during sex from purely external cues.

Despite this limitation – despite the fact that she has been learning a whole new language of communication – she has never felt closer to anyone than she feels to Susan. Talia hadn't exaggerated earlier in the evening when she said that she trusts her implicitly.

She trusts Ivanova more than anyone whose mind she's been able enter.

And in some ways, they achieve a level of empathy that Talia has never known. Susan only admitted to vague worries earlier, but the intensity of her distress gave Talia a headache. Feeling sympathy pains with her mental barriers still in place – it's exhilarating.

Not that she doesn't still wish that she could share the rest of herself with Susan; that she could touch her thoughts and all the hidden spaces and places in between. But she's willing to wait. To watch.

To hope.

Until Susan asks the question that Talia least expects.

**22:00 / heartbeat**

_What is it like when telepaths make love?_

In the space of a thought, Talia suddenly has the answer: it's the mirroring of each other's reflections.

Which, she now realizes, is exactly what they've been doing all along. The way they echo each other's needs during moments of passion, the way Susan senses the reverberations of her wants…

The mental connection is low-level, but Susan is picking up on her overflow, the edges of her desires. If Talia had ever taken a mundane as a lover before, she would have known. She'd simply assumed that the skillful use of enough physical senses could mimic the indescribable intimacy of being inside another person in every possible way. Could mimic being with another telepath.

Oh, Susan. How careful she has been.

Talia can't even find it in herself to be mad at the lie.

But now there is nothing she can say to the other woman's question. She cannot find the words to describe the experience without the description forming an image of the truth. So, for Susan's sake, she calls off the search. Once again, she is at a loss for words.

But maybe, just maybe, one day she will find those lost words in the mind of the woman lying next to her. And then they can finally experience them together.

**17:00 / finite**

"I've…I've hidden things, Talia."

"We all have secrets."

There's a quiet dignity, an acceptance, in those words that Susan doesn't quite understand—but there's no time to delve further. By the end of the day at least someone will know her secret, _the_ secret, her shame and the lies; there's no way to keep the darkness from encroaching. She will be exposed; she will be lost.

Except that Talia's coming ever closer. With each step she takes, Susan feels more grounded, as if a single connection might keep her from slipping away.

"All I know is you're surrounded by people who care about you. There's _nothing_ you could say that would be so terrible that they would turn away." Talia takes another step towards her as if to emphasize the words, as if to calm her mind from the outside in.

Today of all days, Susan wishes she could let her work from the inside out. It's what Talia wants; it's what they _both_ want. But then again, today everyone seems to want into her mind.

"I don't know about that," Susan says. "This one is a real doozy."

"Maybe," Talia says quietly. "For what it's worth, I'm here for you." Once more step and she takes Susan by the arm, looks into her eyes. "If you need me."

Susan wonders how they manage to impart so much strength to each other. Talia's faith in her might just allow her to have faith in others. To have faith in her friends.

**19:00 / outdated**

She is the only one left in the captain's office, and she cannot breathe.

"I hope we'll be able to control the damage on this one Susan," Sheridan says. "Ms. Winters should have been part of the solution to our problem, not one more possible link. Do you have any idea how much that sleeper personality might have heard this last week?"

"I-"

_I don't know. I don't know how to handle this. I haven't just lost her—I've lost her to the Corps. She's once again their child - the Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father - except now she not only believes in her parents, she has become them. She has been replaced with the entity that killed my mother. We were both orphans; she is one no longer. She is no more. _

_I want to kill her parents. Kill the Corps and their offspring, then put my head back on her shoulder, Talia's shoulder, and mourn my own family. I want to tell her, show her, all that I've held back. Except the real Talia is no more. She is the Corps._

_They dictated her existence; they have taken it away. She's as much their victim as my mother. As I too was their victim. Am their victim. Further intimacies would only have made me more of one. And still, I..._

"I have to go."

"What? Susan, we need to-"

"I'm sorry, John. I have some unfinished business to take care of."

_I have to say good-bye._

**21:00 / mourned**

She hated that whatever lived in Talia knew her better than she knew herself.

Susan had known that saying good-bye was a terrible idea, either the bravest or the stupidest decision she'd made since entering Babylon 5. Although she could tell instantly if she was being scanned, with Talia herself incapacitated there was no way to ensure that the other telepath would stay out of her mind. She could be violated.

And she had been. But not by the invasion of the other woman's thoughts. At least, not literally. It was her words that stayed, burned, in Susan's mind. Their relationship was in ashes.

_"Always the Romantic-"_

Susan would never have used that term to describe herself. She didn't deny that she found the occasional romantic gesture appealing, but she'd always considered herself too pragmatic for true romance. She'd probably been wrong.

It didn't matter. It wouldn't happen again.

_"You believed everything she said to you-"_

Oh, Susan had believed, sometimes even against her will. And nothing had changed. She still believed. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

The woman who made her believe it all was gone.

_"You should see the look on your face. My good and dear friend, Susan."_

Susan didn't want to be anywhere near a mirror, didn't want to see what she looked like when the truth became not even a lie, but rather non-existent.

Didn't want to see what she looked like now that Talia had disappeared without even saying good-bye.

**05:00 / contemporary**

"Let me buy you a drink."

For a moment Susan experiences déjà vu…but the offerer is a slim red-head who reminds Susan of Talia only in her assertiveness and apparent willingness to subject herself to dangerous situations.

Make no mistake, Susan Ivanova sits by herself for a reason: after another failure today, she is the boom waiting to fall. Discrete inquiries have gotten her nowhere. Talia is gone, erased, consumed by the Corps. After such losses, there is always vodka.

There is always a boom.

"I'm sitting alone for a reason," Susan says coldly, not even looking up from her drink. "I suggest you offer elsewhere. Now."

Only when the other woman has faded into the crowd does Susan take another swallow. She won't drink enough to impede the performance of her duties in the morning—she drinks just enough to make it through the nights.

The nights which had always belonged to them. Now they belong only to her and her beverage of choice. So she will drink—and forget.

She will forget that the last time a drink was offered her it had ended in a cup of coffee and a tentative friendship.

She will forget about the whispery warmth and weight of each of their nights.

She will forget about what she cannot find.

But she will not forget everything.

No matter how much she drinks of any beverage, she will not forget her.

**03:00 / generational**

She had opened her mind.

Exhausted, Susan sagged against the bindings that held her to the machine.

She had seen them. The ribbons of power that tied them all together, the physical manifestations of connections that should not be denied. She had read them. Followed those twisting light-paths and gathered the information that would help them triumph against shadows of the real truth.

But she hadn't just seen them. Hadn't just read them. She had _felt_ them. And that kind of feeling - that type of touch - it was _indescribable_. Unique.

"I do not understand." Draal said. "A normal human mind should not have been able to do that."

Neither should a P1, Susan thought. What else had Talia shared with her?

What else had Talia known?

Everything?

Enough, apparently, to help Susan progress. For today, she'd not only opened her mind, she'd stepped outside herself. Seen the possibilities. Seen what she had lost. Now she could only hope that on that day when she finally stepped outside it all, when she finally _became_, that Talia would be there, waiting.

So that they could walk together amongst the stars.

**23:00 /endless**

"So, c'mon, tell me." Susan can't believe she asked the question the first time, yet here she is repeating it. "What's it like when telepaths make love?"

Talia takes a breath. "It's quiet," she says, "so quiet, silence beyond anything I can describe. I'm able to narrow my focus to the thoughts and feelings of a single person without any effort—an incredible gift."

"I can only imagine."

The words are breathless; they might as well not have been spoken.

Talia doesn't respond to the statement; merely runs a hand down Ivanova's side and traces a hip-bone, eliciting a soft moan. "I don't have to use your body's responses to guide my hands," she says. "I want what you want as you want it; feel what you feel as you experience it. We become mirrors for each other—lost in each other's reflections."

"Are you sad we don't have that?"

"Sometimes." Talia watches Susan carefully. "But, what we have is not so very bad…" She runs a finger down the inside of her lover's thigh.

"No," Susan echoes. "Not bad at all."

Her face is expressionless, but Talia doesn't need to read either her face or her mind to recognize the decision she's made. Susan is not ready for a concrete answer to her desire. She will continue to ask, over and over again. The question that could have been their beginning.

The question that will always be their end.


End file.
